


Whatever Makes You Happy

by rikyl



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikyl/pseuds/rikyl
Summary: Leslie thinks about her career and figures out what she really wants.Originally posted to LJ.





	

The credits for the History Channel documentary on Gettysburg started to roll, but Leslie didn’t feel any particular urge to move. Ben was laying behind her on the couch in her darkened living room, the length of his body pressed up close against hers, his fingers tracing lazy designs on her stomach and hips. A nice, adorable boyfriend who was as into Civil War Week as much as she was—it was pretty much everything she had ever wanted in a relationship. The sex was good, better than good, but the cuddling—the cuddling was epic.

She shifted from her side to her back so she could see his face, which he helpfully propped on an elbow to gaze down at her, and she felt even less inclined to go anywhere anytime soon. As long as he was looking at her like that, she felt like everything was going to work out, even if she didn’t understand how yet.

“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

She pushed thoughts of how out of her head, knowing they would have to have the conversation someday. Just not yet. Not when it felt so good just to have him here.

“I was just thinking … that you’d make a good Abe Lincoln.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but he furrowed his brow self-deprecatingly. “Is that so? It’s the chin, right? I know it’s … prominent.”

“Aw, I like your chin.” She traced it with her finger. “It’s my favorite chin of all chins.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled softly at her.

“But actually, I was thinking more about his personal qualities. Kind. Resolute. Sincere.”

Ben looked at her oddly, and she wished at moments like this that he just knew how to take a compliment. Instead he quipped, “It’s true, I do find myself silently reciting the Gettysburg Address sometimes when I’m with you.”

She punched him affectionately in the chest. “You what? When?”

He raised his eyebrows at her suggestively, and she giggled as she realized what he was referring to.

“Not always,” he murmured. “Sometimes it’s the state capitals.”

“Do you know all of them?”

He answered by way of one raised eyebrow.

“Of course you do. You’re perfect.”

Those wildly expressive eyebrows—she added them to her list of all-time favorite facial features, next to his brown eyes, cute mouth, and prominent chin. And teeth—she had a special soft spot for those slightly crooked teeth and the rare moments when he smiled big enough to show them.

Not this moment—at this moment he looked like he was trying to figure something out, but he leaned forward to kiss her instead. And to kiss her again, and then—

“Wait, where’s your cell phone?”

“On the charger,” he murmured. “I’m not making that mistake again.” He smiled against her mouth and shifted his body so that it was covering hers.

“Good. In that case, you be Lincoln, and I’ll be Elizabeth Cady Stanton …”

\--

Over morning coffee, it occurred to Leslie how frequent an occurrence these sleepovers were becoming.

“Hey, where do Andy and April think you are when you stay over?”

“Oh, um … if anyone asks, I was playing video games with Tom. And sometimes I fall asleep on Tom’s couch,” Ben said, pouring a second cup of coffee into his travel mug.

She eyed him skeptically. “That works? You’ve been falling asleep on Tom’s couch every single night this week.” She made little air quotes around ‘Tom’s couch’ and then winced, hoping that wasn’t going to catch on as a euphemism. She didn’t want the idea of Tom anywhere near their … euphemisms.

“Um … yes and no. I’m pretty sure Andy actually believes a person could play that many video games. And April assumes I’m in the closet? I don’t know. It’s not an ideal situation.”

Not an ideal situation. Leslie shoved the thought uncomfortably to the back of her mind. “Maybe we should take a night off,” she suggested.

Ben spilled a little of his coffee on the counter, and she wasn’t sure if the slightly startled look that crossed his face was over what she had just said or the mess. Dabbing at it with a paper towel, she made him put the mug down and pulled him in for a lingering kiss.

“Just tonight, okay? I need some Ann time, and you need some man time. Stay in, and try to project some normalcy so that April and Andy don’t get too suspicious, or think you moved out or something. Sound good?”

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her again, pulling back with a smile that seemed more tentative than she would have liked. “Yeah, you’re right. I should do that.”

“And give Tom a call soon and play some actual video games. Don’t forget your friends. Friends, waffles, work, remember?”

Letting her go, he reached to collect his cell phone and other devices from the charging station that had already taken up residence on her counter and started putting them into his laptop bag, which he slung over his shoulder before heading toward the door.

“So waffles got demoted, huh?” he said with a lightness that didn’t sound quite light enough to be talking about breakfast food.

“Just for today.”

\--

Ten hours later, people had started to disperse from the Lil Sebastian memorial after party. Leslie had spent the past hour trying not to visibly freak out while avoiding Ben, which wasn’t too difficult given that Operation Shutdown had commenced. But eventually he managed to work his way toward her, picking up a few stray beer bottles to put into a recycling bin that was nearby.

“Deputy Director Knope,” he greeted her with a curt nod.

His extreme overformality made her almost smile, in spite of everything. He was trying. “Assistant Manager Wyatt.”

Ben winced self-deprecatingly. “I went over the mark and into suspiciously formal there, didn’t I.”

“Yeah. I think you did.”

“Hey, um …” Ben glanced around to make sure nobody was in earshot, and looked back at her, his face nervous and worried, and she tried not to give away how nervous he should be. It wasn’t the right time, here, like this. “I know I’m not supposed to be talking to you right now, but those people you were talking to earlier … it looked like it might be about city business. Was it about city business?”

“Who, those people? They were just …” Crap, she didn’t want to lie to him either. But Operation Shutdown meant they couldn’t talk about it here anyway, so … “It … wasn’t about city business.”

Ben frowned, furrowing his brow. “Right. So that means …”

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“Is everything all right? Do you still want me to … ?” He jerked his head vaguely in what might have been the direction of the shoeshine stand, or possibly the Ludgate-Dwyer house, and she remembered their plan to take the night off, with a confusing rush of disappointment and relief. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe with just a little time, she could figure this out.

“Yeah, go home. It’s okay. It’s nothing. We’ll talk soon.”

Ben still looked a little doubtful, and she hated keeping this from him, and not being able to just run up to him and share her good news, like a woman should be able to do with her boyfriend.

But the moment passed, and Ben smiled at her affectionately—too affectionately, probably, for City Hall. It was a good thing no one was paying them any attention. “Okay. Then I’m off to play Zombie Apocalypse … or something. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep. I’ll be here.” He walked backward a few steps, gazing at her fondly in that way he had, and she smiled back at him, feeling for a moment like they were the only two people in the building and nothing else in the world mattered.

As he turned and walked away, Leslie caught herself, putting a more professional expression on her face and getting a sudden terrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This was never going to work.

\--

Ron glared at her over the charred remainders of his facial hair when she found him in his office a short while later.

“Not a good time, Leslie.” But he must have noticed some evidence on her face of the desperate panic she felt, because his voice softened just slightly, even if he still looked wary. “What is it?”

“Ron, I’m really, really sorry about your face. It definitely won’t happen again. For one thing, I can’t imagine how we would possibly manage to burn your moustache off twice. I guess it could happen, but …” She realized she was rambling, and Ron looked about to lose his patience. “Anyway, we’ll be more careful, I promise. If that’s even … if we’re even …”

“Leslie?” he said, and she was right, his patience was definitely running thin. He had said goodbye to both a beloved miniature horse and a well-groomed moustache all in one day. But this was important. Ron would know what to do. He always knew what to do.

“I know it’s not a good time, but I really need some advice.”

Ron frowned severely at her. “If you were heeding my advice, you wouldn’t be sleeping with your boss.”

A burst of defensiveness flared in her gut. “It’s not like that! We’re not sleeping together. Okay, we are. A lot. But we’re not just sleeping together, we’re in …” Leslie stopped herself before saying love, because that wasn’t quite right. Was it? “… very intense like with each other.”

Ron looked a little disgusted, and suddenly she wished she hadn’t used the phrase sleeping together so much, so soon after he had heard those graphic cell phone messages. But then he shrugged his shoulders resignedly. “Okay. Like I already told you. Be. More. Careful.”

“Right.” Leslie took a deep breath, then plunged ahead. “It’s not that, Ron. These people … these people just came and talked to me. They want me to run for office. City Council, or mayor even. Maybe. Probably City Council, but—”

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. “What people?”

“Does it matter?” The question came out more explosively than she intended, and she lowered her voice again. She was just feeling really high-strung and frantic at the moment, but it wasn’t Ron’s fault. “The point is, if I ran for office, my relationship would be a scandal. More of a scandal … than it already is.”

Ron considered that silently, frowning at her under the singed remnants of his moustache for a few long moments.

“If it were me, I’d do what I wanted, because I don’t care about this job anyway. And I definitely wouldn’t be running for office.”

“But me, Ron. You know me. What should I do?”

Ron shook his head, and she felt herself holding her breath waiting for his response, as if her entire fate were in his hands. Ron will know what to do. Ron will know what to do.

“Nobody can make this choice for you, Leslie,” he finally said. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ve always wanted to run for office,” she answered immediately, thinking of all the powerful women adorning her office walls who would be disappointed in her if she gave up on that.

“Okay. There you go.”

Her heart sank, and she thought of that trick that people do when they’re making a choice, where they flip a coin and then see how they feel about the result. She didn’t feel as good about this particular result as she expected to.

“But … I really, really want to date Ben.”

Ron frowned more deeply at her. “Then … there you go.”

Except … that result didn’t make her feel very good either. It made her feel like she was letting a whole lot of people down, from Gloria Steinem to her mother. “Why do I have to choose? This sucks, Ron.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she remembered all over again that he was a man who’d had his facial hair burned off this evening, not to mention that it could been so much worse, not to mention that she had heard mention that his first ex-wife had been in the building tonight, and she felt terrible suddenly for only thinking of herself at the moment.

“You’ve got to figure out what’s important to you, Leslie. You love your job. You’ve always wanted to run for office. And you’re in … very intense like … with a man who threatens those things.” He shrugged. “Decide what your priorities are.”

Leslie let out her breath in a disappointed puff. As much as she didn’t appreciate the way he’d quoted her feelings for Ben back to her, somewhat derisively, she knew he was right.

There wasn’t going to be an easy answer to this. Not even Ron Swanson could fix that for her.

\--

When Leslie finally forced herself to go to bed that night, she tossed and turned restlessly, the mantra she’d so recently coined bouncing around in her head like some kind of deranged pinball.

Waffles, friends, work.

Friends, waffles, work.

Not many weeks ago, it had seemed so simple. Everything important in her life could be summarized in those three words, all ordered and neat, and sometimes the first two switched places. But it didn’t matter.

Work was third.

The thing was, Ben wasn’t even on the list.

Maybe he fell under waffles. Comfort food—really delicious comfort food. Sweet. Wonderful. Something she couldn’t imagine not being part of her regular diet, familial history of diabetes be damned.

Or … friends. He was a friend. A good friend. Even … well, she couldn’t bring herself to say best friend, but only because Ann, and even Ron, were so important to her, that giving a relative newcomer that title felt like some sort of betrayal. But he was up there. He made her laugh, and she enjoyed his company, and he was there for her. Loyal. Kind. He was … yeah, he was definitely a friend.

But also work! They worked together. But also … they worked together—not just a shared place of employment, but a shared passion. They cared about their work, and they made things happen together, and they … they were supposed to build things together. They met at work, and they fell for each other at work, and they still worked really well together. And no matter what happened, she didn’t want to lose that.

So, yeah, he was work too. Waffles, friends, work. Friends, waffles, work.

But he was more than a colleague. And more than a friend. And … yes, even, he was more than waffles too.

He wasn’t on the list, and he was everything on the list, all at the same time. And she still didn’t know what to make of that.

The other thing that wasn’t on the list was running for office. That wasn’t work. That was something more. Her dream. The one she’d had since she was 12 years old, from the first time she’d seen Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, even if she hadn’t actually given it much thought the past few years.

Where did that fit in?

\--

Leslie hardly slept that night, but she happened to have plans to meet Ann at JJ’s for breakfast, so she dragged herself out of bed. Maybe Ann, beautiful nurse, wonderful friend, would know what to do.

She ordered her usual without really thinking, but as soon as the food was in front of her, didn’t feel like eating. After thinking about priorities all night, the sight of waffles suddenly made her feel a little nauseous.

Ann noticed her barely picking at her food. “Leslie, is something wrong? You seem … off.”

Leslie filled her in on the mystery committee and their plans for her, but Ann just looked confused.

“But wait. That’s good news, isn’t it? Shouldn’t I be congratulating you and making plans to celebrate?”

“It is … it is good news. Really good news. I think. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Okay. So … ?”

“It’s Ben. I don’t think I can run for office and date Ben at the same time. I have to … choose.” Leslie swallowed back the lump in her throat. The thing about coins was that they only had two sides, and she couldn’t stand the thought of either side landing face down.

Ann’s face fell, as she immediately realized the seriousness of the situation, and she reached across the table to put a comforting hand over Leslie’s.

“What do you think you want to do?” she asked, her voice laced with gentle concern.

“I don’t know,” Leslie said, and her voice sounded really small to her own ears. “I really have no idea. I dreamed of running for office when I was a little girl, and this is my chance. They’re asking me to do it, and I should be so excited. But … there’s Ben. I really, really like Ben.”

“Like? Not … love?”

Leslie sighed. It was one of the questions that had been keeping her up last night. “I don’t know. I think, maybe? I feel like it’s just a matter of time. But it’s so early. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks.”

“You’ve known each other a lot longer,” Ann pointed out. “And sometimes it happens that fast. With Chris, I knew really fast. Bad example, of course, because he didn’t feel the same way. But you don’t have to worry about that. Ben is right there with you.”

“You think?”

“Yes. Definitely. You should have seen the way he reacted to that kissy monster thing you drew him. If he’s not already there, he is well on his way.”

Leslie winced. She knew it was true, and she couldn’t stand the idea of hurting Ben, not after the way he’d opened himself up to her. He was such a good person, and he’d been so good to her, and … he’d been taking the same risks she was for this. How was that fair?

“Oh my god. That makes this so much harder.”

They sat in unhappy silence for a few moments, picking at their breakfasts. It was like Ann was experiencing sympathy-nausea, because she was hardly eating either.

“What does Ben think?” Ann finally asked.

“I haven’t talked to him yet,” Leslie admitted. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, and I don’t want to put that on him. I can just imagine the look on his face, if he even thinks that there’s a possibility that I might break up with him.”

She could imagine it because she felt like she’d already seen it, or at least hints of how vulnerable he felt with her, and that was before she had even been faced with the prospect. Thinking of it, all she wanted to do was to reach for him, and to kiss him, and to reassure him that everything was going to be all right. And she didn’t even know at the moment if she was going to be in the position to do that.

Ann looked at her with that sympathetic sternness that seemed characteristic of good nurses. Or at least good friends. “You need to talk to him. He needs to know what’s going on, for one thing. And he cares about you, so I’m sure he’ll be happy for you. Maybe he’ll even have an idea of how to make this work.”

“Maybe,” Leslie said doubtfully, wanting it to be true.

“Look. My hospital shift ends at 8 tonight. I’ll be home by 8:15. Call me if you need me to come over, okay?”

“Thank you, Ann.”

Leslie mustered a smile, even while thinking about what version of talking to Ben would require her best friend to come over afterward.

\--

Leslie didn’t get in to work until 8:45, which was late for her, and was surprised to find Tom in the middle of packing up his desk. She experienced a rush of panicky déjà vu, like the government was shutting down all over again and her department was falling apart at the seams.

But of course that wasn’t what was happening. Ben was on her side now. And he was Tom’s friend. And her secret boyfriend. And if the job of anyone in her department was in danger, she would have heard about it by now.

“Tom, what’s happening? Where are you going?”

“To follow my dreams!”

For a moment Leslie was really confused. “They asked you to run for City Council too?”

Now Tom was the one who looked confused. “What? No. I’m going into business with Jean-Ralphio. Entertainment 720. We are going to jump on the back of that horse funeral and ride it straight to the top!”

Suddenly Leslie felt like the plates of the earth were shifting under her and she couldn’t catch her balance. “Wow, that’s … just like that?”

“I tried to give Ron my two weeks’ notice, but he told me I didn’t need to stick around costing the government money. So I’m just collecting a few things, and then we’re off to look at ridiculously overpriced furniture.”

“This seems really sudden! So, what—he just asked you to do this, this big thing that you’ve always wanted to do, and that’s it? Just like that, you can walk out on this department and all your friends here and all the plans that we had?”

Tom paused long enough to look at her like she was going insane, and she realized she probably kind of was. So much was changing, and it was all happening to fast, and she couldn’t seem to get a grip on any of it.

“Whoa, Les. Chill. We’ll still hang. Jean-Ralphio is setting us up in some sweet-ass digs. You should swing by soon and check it out. And tell your friends. Entertainment 720 is in business!”

“That’s great. I’m … really happy for you, Tom,” Leslie managed, trying to muster the enthusiasm that one friend should have for another friend at a time like this.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” Tom came over and put a smarmy hand on her shoulder. “I had no idea you felt so strongly about me. Listen, you will always be like a big brother to me. But this is one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that I just can’t pass up! Parks, government, public service—that’s your thing. Success, adventure, wealth—that’s my thing. I have to at least try this.”

It was hard to argue with that. Leslie sighed and shrugged her shoulders, wondering where that left her.

“You’re right. You have to try.”

\--

By the time she got home that night, all Leslie wanted was a hug. From her boyfriend. The boyfriend she was probably about to dump.

That wasn’t true. She hadn’t made any decisions—how could she? It was an impossible decision to make. But she was going to tell him the situation, try to talk it through with him and see if they could figure out how to make it work—and she had a really bad feeling about where that was going to lead. Ben wouldn’t want to take this away from her. And he was so practical, he was going to see that they couldn’t keep a relationship secret during a political campaign.

Leslie wondered momentarily if there was a version of eloping that didn’t involve getting married, like just … running off to Vegas to explore their feelings for each other, indefinitely. Was that a thing?

Staring down at the foreign-looking multipurpose charging station he’d left on her kitchen counter, she tried to remember when it had shown up there and couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was strange the ease and quickness with which Ben had just seeped into her life after that first kiss, to the point where he was already leaving things at her house without really asking. To the point where the thing they had to make plans for wasn’t when they were going to spend time together, but when they were going to spend time apart.

Even now as she picked up the phone to invite him over, it felt odd, like she shouldn’t even have to make the call, like he just already be there, because it was where he belonged.

Ben answered after the first ring, and she wondered if it felt odd to him too.

“How was your evening?” he asked before she could say much past hello.

“My evening?”

“Didn’t you make plans with Ann?”

“Oh … yeah. I mean, no. Yes. We had breakfast this morning instead. It was good.”

“Me too. Not breakfast with Ann. I played video games with Andy last night. You were right, it was fun.”

“Is Andy around tonight?” she asked, suddenly worried about whether Ben was going to have anyone to be there for him, like Ann had promised to be there for her. Just in case.

“Um, yeah … I think so. He and April are just watching tv or something. Why, do you want me to hang out here again? I thought …”

“No, no. You should come over. You should … yes, come over.”

“Good.” He sounded happy, and for a moment she was too, before she remembered why she shouldn’t be happy. Not about this, at least. “See you in 15 minutes?”

“Okay. See you soon.”

When she had him sitting on her couch almost 20 minutes later, looking keyed-up and confused, an unexpected thing happened. She was still really nervous about what this would mean for them. But bubbling up over that was this excitement at sharing her news with him finally—knowing that he of all people would know what this meant to her, and that he’d be really proud of her.

As she told him about the committee identifying her as someone who might have a political future, and specifically a chance at a City Council seat soon, Ben’s eyes widened and he squeezed her hand.

“Oh wow. That’s huge. That’s wonderful, Leslie. Not surprising at all, but...”

“Not surprising?” To her, it felt like it came out of nowhere.

“Well, no. I mean … the Harvest Festival was a big success. But even aside from that, I’ve never met anyone like you in government. Honestly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long for someone to take notice like this.”

For a moment, Leslie was just happy to be sharing this with him, and to be reminded all over again of how much faith he had in her and the way he made her feel like she could accomplish anything she wanted. Then his face turned more thoughtful, and she remembered what this conversation was supposed to be about.

“So … what do you think you want to do?” he asked.

And there it was. It was exactly the question that Ron had asked, and that Ann had asked, and that Leslie dreaded having to come up with an answer for. But there was something strange about the way Ben was asking it, with a curiosity, and a kind of neutrality that was disconcerting. He was asking as if it didn’t affect him, and she had been thinking so much about was how it would affect him, and something about this wasn’t right.

“Well, um, I … really don’t know. This thing we have … I know it’s early, but it feels … it feels like something. More. Than longer relationships I’ve been in.” Suddenly she felt really self-conscious telling him how strongly she felt, because she had thought he was there already, and that he was just waiting for her to catch up, but had she misread the situation? Why wasn’t he more concerned about this? “And … I really don’t want to give that up, I want see this through and see where it goes and … I’m just having a really hard time figuring out how it’s all going to work.”

“Oh … oh god,” Ben said softly, closing his eyes for a moment and furrowing his brow, and Leslie watched him anxiously. When he opened them again, she could see the fear there, in more stark relief than in any of the smaller moments of vulnerability she’d noticed in him since they’d started dating. But then abruptly, it was gone, and he shook his head slightly, seeming to shake off whatever complicated thought he’d just been processing. When he looked back at her, he was just Ben.

“Actually, that wasn’t what I was asking,” he said evenly, with a twitch of a tentative smile. “I meant … is elected office what you want. As opposed to … working in the parks department. Or any other job for that matter. Do you think you want to do this?”

Leslie stared at him. It took a moment for it to sink in that Ben’s first reaction to her news wasn’t to think of himself, or where he fit into this new scenario, but to think of her, and her career, and what she wanted.

Another beat to wonder at the fact that even after she had brought up the complication of their relationship, he hadn’t followed her there. That after that initial wobbly moment of panic, he’d somehow, for some reason, been able to set it aside and repeat his original question, which had nothing to do with the status of their relationship.

And another moment to actually think about that original question. It wasn’t one that had occurred to her, because it hadn’t seemed like a question … was it?

“You don’t have to figure it out right away, obviously,” Ben said, either misreading her hesitation, or perhaps trying to steer the conversation away from the issue of them—a reaction that was startling and mystifying to her. The thought flashed through her mind that maybe he wasn’t as practical or realistic as she had thought, at least not regarding this, and that he wasn’t going to be the one to make them deal with that issue.

She wondered for a moment if he was just being strong for her, letting her have this one happy night to enjoy her news, before facing the inevitable. The thought overwhelmed her with emotion, so much that she could hardly focus on what Ben was saying.

“You’ve got time, right? When would you have to decide?” he was asking.

“Oh, um … three months. That’s when I would have to announce my candidacy, at least.”

“Good,” Ben said, squeezing her knee and smiling at her, a little tentatively, but with no trace of the fear she’d seen a few moments before. “Plenty of time to weigh all your options. I can just imagine the pro-con lists that are going to be happening.”

Options? What was he talking about? It seemed like Ben of all people would know what she wanted. “One of the very first things you ever said to me—one of the first civil things, at least—was that you knew I wanted to run for office. And I remember thinking at the time, how did you even know that? We had just met …”

He quirked an affectionate smile at the memory. “Yeah, I guess that was a little presumptuous of me. And that’s the thing—it was presumptuous of me, because we had just met. I thought you were this shining star stuck in the basement of bureaucracy, that you must want to get out of the parks department …”

He winced at the memory, and she remembered he had said some dumb things, like that Pawnee wasn’t special, and that her department wasn’t a priority.

“A lot has changed since then, hasn’t it,” she said, and it suddenly struck her how true that was. Not just that Ben had changed, but that she had changed, that she had more confidence in what she could do. And she didn’t know if that meant that she’d grown beyond the parks department, or if she’d found her calling there or what. Either way, she was starting to get an inkling that maybe this wasn’t a call that she should be letting a committee of strangers make for her.

Ben nodded, looking at her expectantly.

“I wanted to run for office since I was a little girl. You’ve seen my office …”

“I have, I have. Your walls were actually one of the first things I noticed in Pawnee,” he said with a fondness that made her think he had noticed her that early too.

“But … honestly, I hadn’t thought about it for a while. I like the parks department, and I thought, maybe, someday I would have Ron’s job, or even, I don’t know, jump over Ron to … well, not that I would take your job from you.”

He looked thrown by that for a moment, and she wished she knew what he was thinking, but he moved past it instead.

“The thing I said before, about you being stuck in parks—I don’t think that anymore.”

“I know.”

“You’re amazing at your job, and you’re passionate about it, and I think what you do is so valuable. The Harvest Festival alone—it didn’t end up generating all that much revenue, but it gave people hope at a time when there didn’t really seem to be many reasons to hope. And seeing how much you enjoyed doing something like that …”

“Could you see me as a City Council member?” Leslie asked, realizing how much she wanted to hear what Ben had to say about this. As much as she knew they should get back to the issue of their relationship, this was the conversation she wanted to be having tonight, and it was hard not to go along with it.

“Yes, absolutely … this isn’t coming out right. I think you’d be an amazing politician. But … it’s not better or worse than what you do, it’s just different.”

“Different how?”

“Um … it’s a lot of delegating,” Ben said after thinking for a moment. “You make the decisions, but other people carry them out. Take Harvest Fest—if you were on the City Council, you’d be one of the people who voted on whether an event like that could go on, and you’d approve the budget. But you wouldn’t be the person on the ground, making it happen. And I saw how much you enjoyed making it happen.”

“I did,” was all Leslie could say, chewing her lip thoughtfully. As much as she admired the political powerhouses of Pawnee and had hoped to be in their shoes someday, it occurred to her she hadn’t actually given much thought to what their jobs entailed. “Did you like being mayor? I mean, before …”

“Before it all went to hell?” Ben grimaced, but he didn’t look unhappy to be talking about it. “Not as much as I thought I would.”

They talked for a long time after that, about what he had expected it to be like, versus what the job had actually turned out to be, the limitations he’d run up against, and the reasons things had gone so wrong. And then they talked about other public officials he’d dealt with, as an auditor and now as assistant city manager. Then they talked about her career, why she’d gone back to Pawnee after college instead of moving to Indianapolis, how she’d ended up in the parks department by chance but grown to love it, where her childhood political aspirations might fit into all this.

“I know my life sounds like a cautionary tale against running for office,” Ben said eventually. “But I don’t mean it like that. You know, whatever you do, I am going to support you one hundred percent. If you run for office, I will be the first person to cast my vote for you. I will camp out overnight at the poll to make sure of that.”

She smiled, ducking her head, holding his hand. “I know you would.”

“I just want you to be happy,” he said with absolute sincerity.

Looking back at him in that moment, at the way he cared about her and believed in her and supported her seemingly without condition, Leslie had a sudden moment of clarity. Whatever she decided to do, Ben was going to have to be a part of it.

“What about you? What do you want to do?” she asked, feeling suddenly like there was a whole piece of this conversation that they’d been missing.

“Me?”

“Yes. I want you to be happy too.”

“I am happy. You make me happy,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.

She knew he was deflecting, and that they were going to have to come back to this conversation later. But this made her happy too, so she let it go.

“Do you know which amazing, powerful woman I want to make love to tonight?” he murmured into her ear.

Giggling, Leslie went through her mental repertoire of awesome ladies who she could role play. Lady Bird Johnson? Janet Napolitano? Angela Merkel? “Who?”

He brushed some hair from the side of her face and gazed down at her, in that way that made her feel like she was the only woman on the planet, and said softly, with a reverence that made her skin tingle, “Leslie Knope. Deputy director of the Pawnee Department of Parks and Recreation … and possible candidate for City Council.”

“Possible,” Leslie echoed, leaning in to kiss him, with no plans to stop anytime soon.

\--

In the morning while Ben was in her shower, Leslie sat down at her kitchen table and started a new pro-con list to help her decide whether she was going to run for office. The actual list was short—she simply wrote “dream” on the pro side, and had trouble thinking of any definite cons—but she started to make notes on a list of questions she still needed to find the answers to before she could confidently call it a landslide.

As she added to her list, she glanced up to see Ben hovering in the doorway watching her, his hair damp from the shower. He looked bleary-eyed, like he hadn’t slept well, and there was something taut in his muscles and guarded about the smile he greeted her with; it wasn’t reaching his eyes. It looked like he’d spent the night coming back to reality, and she felt the panic rising all over again that he was going to insist this wouldn’t work.

“Ben …” she started, but trailed off as he crossed the room and looked over her shoulder at what she was writing.

“Where does secret relationship fall?” He asked it quietly, and it wasn’t like his voice lacked emotion, but it was without a single trace of bitterness or judgment. A wave of warmth and protectiveness toward him washed through her, and it only strengthened her resolve.

“It doesn’t,” she said firmly, looking him in the eye. “I decided our relationship has nothing to do with this decision.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, already visibly letting his guard down, and she was struck all over again by how Ben might not have it in him to be the practical one about this.

“I’m sure,” she said standing up to embrace him, feeling her voice threatening to break. “Worth the risk, right? If I do this, we’d … we’ll … we’ll figure something out.”

She didn’t know how yet—maybe she’d leaver her job in City Hall to focus on the campaign, or maybe they’d just go public and face the consequences and have one of those “til they drop” press conferences like Arnold Vinick did in the seventh season of The West Wing. Not the greatest season of The West Wing, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be an effective political strategy—

“Yeah,” Ben finally agreed, more like a relieved exhale of breath, and she watched the edges on his face softening, felt the rigidity in his muscles draining out as he gave himself over to her reassurances. “We’d … yes, we would. We’d figure something out.”

The confidence in that sentence erased any remaining traces of anxiety she felt, and she held him close, fisting her hands in the back of his shirt.

It might be hard—but screw it. They were going to do it anyway.

Maybe. Depending on how her pro-con list shook out.

\--

One of the first questions Leslie set about answering was what would happen to her job—her current one, the one she cared about quite a lot. Since Williams Barnes had been vague on the issue of whether she could stay on in the parks department, and since that seemed like an important piece of information for the pro-con list, Leslie decided to do her own research.

What she found out was that it was technically legal, at least for the time being. Governor Daniels had been trying on an annual basis to push through a bill that would bar public officials from simultaneously serving on public bodies that had the power to determine their own salaries. It had just failed in the state House again, but reading up on the governor’s reasons, Leslie didn’t feel good about trying to do it anyway.

As much as there were ethical issues with Ben making funding recommendations for the parks department while dating her—and there were ethical issues, even though she didn’t like to think about it—it seemed even more problematic to be voting herself on funding for her own department. It was both more power, and less objectivity—or at least that would be the appearance. Even if it was technically allowed, she assumed some people out there, employees of other departments or just concerned citizens, might be uncomfortable with the situation. And that didn’t seem like a promising way to start a political career.

She supposed she could recuse herself from votes having anything to do with the parks department, but that would mean she wouldn’t have a say in any of the issues that were most important to her. And that wasn’t acceptable to her either.

That was that, she’d have to quit her job in the parks department if she were elected. For the first time since she’d been approached about running, Leslie had something concrete to put in the con column—something that seemed to expand into a whole set of cons the more she thought about it.

On the other side of the page, she erased the word dream and rewrote it, in larger, all-capital letters. It only seemed fair.

\--

In the meantime, Tom agreed to come back the following week for a going-away shindig, but only if Entertainment 720 could plan it. He had insisted that he had a reputation to uphold (‘Any party I’m at can’t just be fly, or medium fly. It has to be superfly!’). So on a Tuesday in mid-May after work hours, the parks department offices had been transformed temporarily with strobe lights and some sort of pulsing sound system. Tom put up a screen to broadcast a video of what he was calling his personal greatest hits, but which appeared to have been taken all in the past week.

Ben and Leslie stood off to one side, a professional distance apart, cautiously sipping little plastic goblets of “virgin snake punch,” whatever that was.

“I feel like I don’t even qualify to be Tom’s friend anymore,” Ben said, leaning into her so that she could hear him over the music. “Like … I’d have to drop two grand at Sharper Image just to keep up.”

Leslie shook her head. “Tom’s not like that. People don’t just forget the people that matter to them just because they have an opportunity to move on.”

Ben raised a perceptive eyebrow at her. “Are we still talking about Tom?”

“I don’t even know. Everything’s such a huge jumble in my head right now.” Without thinking, she reached for his arm, running her fingers up his sleeve.

After a moment, Ben jerked away. “Whoa, hey, what happened to not … anything at work? Seriously, Chris is right there.”

Chris was across the room obliviously breakdancing.

“Sorry! Sorry. I forgot where we were for a moment. Maybe I should just go … talk to Ann. Before I accidentally start groping you again.”

“Good idea. We’ll continue this later, right?”

“What, the groping?” The music was loud enough that no one but Ben could hear her anyway.

Ben looked like he might be blushing, which was adorable and all the more reason to continue this later. “I meant the conversation. But … probably both.”

Leslie went to go find Ann, and they ended up in Leslie’s office, where it was quiet enough to talk. Ann started excitedly filling Leslie in on some of the ideas she had for how the health department could be better represented at the next Harvest Festival.

Listening to her it occurred to Leslie that the main reason that she had recommended Ann for the job—in addition to the fact that Ann was the best possible person to do it—was that it would give them the opportunity to work together more. The parks department and health department were supposed to coordinate, exactly like this.

How much would she be able to work with Ann if she was busy with running for office and then—crap, she was hesitant to even think it, like it might jinx her or something—being in office?

“This is weird,” Ann said, breaking into Leslie’s train of thought.

“What? Oh, yeah, to be honest, I think I could have thrown a better going-away party. Something more personal and moving. But this made Tom happy, and it’s his party. The punch is good.”

“Not that … I was just thinking, how weird this is. That I work at City Hall now.”

Leslie grinned at her. “Good weird, though, right?”

“Yeah, totally. Good weird,” Ann agreed whole-heartedly. “Three years ago, all I wanted was for someone to fill in that pit so my deadbeat boyfriend didn’t fall into it again, and I had so little hope that anyone was going to help me. Now the pit’s filled in, and I work at City Hall, and you’re my best friend. Definitely good weird.”

Leslie pulled her in for a big hug, feeling overwhelmed with emotion over everything that had been going on in her life lately, and the fact that she had Ann to help her through it. “Ann, beautiful Ann. I am so happy that Andy fell in the pit.”

Ann laughed, breaking away. “Me too. Me too. It’s weird how things work out sometimes.”

“It is,” Leslie agreed, with less conviction than Ann, her eyes drifting out to the parks offices, to all the people who were important to her.

When Ann had gone back to the party, Leslie reluctantly added another item to the con side and frowned down at the page. Then she drew a sunburst around the word “DREAM” and sketched a little rocketship next to it to balance things out.

\--

Later after the party wound down, Leslie said a final (except for all the times they were still going to see each other again) goodbye to Tom and found Ron in his office. Ron had apparently abandoned the virgin snake punch and broken out the whiskey. In silent offering, he tilted the bottle toward her.

“Yeah, okay. Hit me.”

She sank into the seat across from his desk, and they sipped for a few moments in companionable silence.

“I can’t believe Tom is leaving,” Leslie sighed finally. “How are we ever going to replace him?”

Ron gave her an odd look. “Yeah … Tom’s going to be the one who’s hard to replace.”

Leslie made a mental tally of who would be left in the parks department if she decided to run for office and was actually elected (knock on wood). Ron, April, Jerry, and Donna. Except that Ron and April didn’t really count because they hardly did anything, and Jerry didn’t count because he was Jerry. And that left Donna.

“Would you … do you think you would fill my position if I left?”

Ron looked at her for a long moment, his eyes turning moist, and Leslie wondered if he had allergies or something.

“I have no idea what I would do without you,” he said with a seriousness that gave away that he wasn’t just talking about filling her position, and that he probably didn’t have allergies. Leslie felt her own eyes tear up as well.

Ron cleared his throat. “Have you made a decision?”

Grimacing, Leslie took another swallow of the whiskey. “No idea. I still can’t even wrap my head around the fact that these people want me to do this. They picked me. They asked me to run for office. How could I pass that up? But then … there are all these things that I want to do.” She launched into some of the items on her con list, half-hoping Ron would reassure her she could still do them, or at least that someone else would make sure they happened if she couldn’t. “I just started planning the observatory project. I want to keep Harvest Fest going. I want to work with Ann, for the parks department to partner more with the health department. And I want … more than anything, I really want to build my park.”

Actually, that last one she wanted for herself. And she wanted to do it whether she was deputy director of the parks department or freshman City Council member or secretary-general of the United Nations.

“You still haven’t given up on that.”

“Of course not, Ron! It’s going to happen. I just haven’t figured out how yet. It’s going to happen, though.”

“Let me ask you something, Leslie. Do you want to be an elected official, or do you just want people to vote for you?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Do you remember when you really wanted that Dorky Eagle Shoe Award?”

“Dorothy Everton Smythe Award, Ron,” she corrected him, then added more quietly, “and I still really want it.”

“Public office is like an award. It’s not based on what you do. It’s based on what people think you do. And people are idiots.”

“Well, I don’t think I agree with—”

“But elected offices are even worse than awards,” he continued before she could argue further. “Once you get them, you actually have to … govern.”

“Still … not seeing your point.”

“I can see how being approached about the job, running for the job, being elected to the job, all that’s exciting. Just make sure it’s a job you really want. That’s my point.”

Leslie looked out of the darkened parks department, wondering if she was really ready to leave this little corner of City Hall behind.

Then she thought of the Dorothy Everton Smythe Award, the one that she’d pulled out of the trash and that didn’t really have her name on it but that she felt was hers just the same, because Ron had given it to her and his opinion meant more than those women in the IOW. At any rate, it was still hanging on a wall in her spare bedroom, the one she would use as an office if she could just find the desk she knew was in there somewhere, and she wasn’t about to take it down.

She still wanted it.

“I don't know. I’ll think about it, Ron.”

\--

The parks department was as busy as ever headed into the summer season, and Leslie had started interviewing candidates for Tom’s job but still hadn’t found an adequate replacement. A tiny part of her—a sliver she felt guilty even existed—hoped this venture with Jean-Ralphio wouldn’t work out and that he’d be back in the parks department again soon, just like old times.

It crossed her mind to wonder if she left, if her friends would think of her like that—if they’d resent her at all for leaving them in the lurch. She wrote “abandoning friends” in the con column and then erased it again. She was lucky to work with such wonderful friends, but this kind of thing happened. People change jobs, they get promoted, they move on. That’s what Tom had done, and she should be happy for him. She was happy for him. Just as she knew people would be for her.

At any rate, with Tom gone and with Ben trying to make himself more scarce (Operation Shutdown was still in effect), Leslie was in overdrive. The lingering effects of the government shutdown meant more creativity and more legwork were needed than ever before to keep an adequate slate of rec programs and events on the calendar. At the same time, plans for the observatory project were just getting up off the ground, and she was already busily making plans for the next Harvest Festival.

It was hard to imagine trying to fit a campaign into her schedule, and even harder not to wonder who would take up the dozens of torches she was juggling if she moved on. But she barely had time to even think about that.

Instead of a concert series, the parks department had coordinated with the Legion and VFW to kick off summer with a Memorial Day parade and BBQ, the proceeds of which would help pay for the summer rec programs. Leslie had spent the morning mediating quarrels between the two co-sponsors over float placement and flag ceremonies, and was actually relieved when it was her turn to take a place in the serving line next to Jerry and his wife Gayle, who had volunteered to pitch in.

When the line slowed down, Leslie made a point of thanking her. “Gayle, it’s so nice of you to help out. I hope it’s not weird between us after the … you know.” Leslie gestured vaguely indicating her chestal region and then immediately regretted it. Probably she would have been better off not mentioning the painting.

But Gayle just smiled pleasantly, a twinkle in her eye. “Heaven’s no. I was so silly for being jealous, and Jerry made it up to me with a nude sculpture of the two of us for our bedside table. He is so talented.”

Leslie struggled to hide her disgust, both at the idea of that sculpture and at the way Gayle was beaming up at her husband at the moment like he was Tony Blair or something. Really, Gayle? Jerry?

“That’s … so nice. It seems like you two are obviously lucky to have found each other.” Leslie felt proud of the diplomatic way she had phrased that—maybe she was destined for politics after all.

“We are,” Gayle said, with more sincerity than Leslie expected. “And I always meant to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“For fighting for Jerry’s job.” Leslie started to demur, but Gayle waved her off. “It’s okay. We know he would have been the first to be cut. And with me losing my job … we were just really grateful that he kept his. So I wanted to thank you.”

Leslie was so surprised that all she managed was a meek “you’re welcome” before Gayle excused herself to go check on the Gergich girls, since the food line had grown sparse.

When she was out of earshot, Leslie turned to Jerry. “You never told me Gayle was out of work. What happened?”

“I didn’t? I thought I did. Maybe I just thought I mentioned it. That’s probably what happened.”

“Jerry?”

Jerry shrugged. “There were budget cuts everywhere last year. The school district had to cut a lot of paraprofessional positions. Gayle was one of them.”

“Para—?” For a moment all Leslie could think of was paratrooper, but she knew that wasn’t right.

“They’re like assistant teachers. The class sizes have grown so big, the teachers don’t have time to give much individual attention. So Gayle would help some of the kids who needed extra help.”

Leslie wondered who was helping those kids now.

“I’m so sorry she lost her job. That must have been terrible for her.”

“Oh, I feel bad for the kids, but she’s okay. It was a job, but it wasn’t her dream. Actually, she’s a classically trained violinist and a very talented poet.”

Leslie looked across the way at the slightly plump, nondescript woman who appeared to be arguing with their 16-year-old daughter and wondered where that woman’s life had gone wrong. “Why … why isn’t she playing in an orchestra, or applying to be the state’s poet laureate, or something?”

Jerry looked at Leslie like she was speaking a foreign language. “She wanted to do something that let her be home with the kids when they weren’t in school. It’s all about balance. We have jobs to pay the bills, and time left over for family and hobbies. We’ve had everything we wanted. We’ve been very blessed.”

As Jerry gazed happily across at his wife and daughter, Leslie wrinkled her nose at the idea of it—a job that was just good enough, something that just paid the bills, all so she could … what? She hardly had any hobbies, and she didn’t even know if she wanted kids.

Even as she felt a twinge of envy for the Gergiches, for the way they had found a way to make everything fit and how happy they seemed with what they had, she knew she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to feel like she was giving up one big important thing to make room for five or ten things that were just good enough. She wasn’t Jerry Gergich, for god’s sake.

Later that afternoon, Leslie scrawled another item on the pro list: Not running is something Jerry would do. Then she erased it, deciding she didn’t want Jerry’s name anywhere near her list. I’m ambitious, she wrote instead. Then she called up William Barnes.

\--

William Barnes had wanted to meet somewhere in Eagleton, at some restaurant with a dress code, but Leslie insisted on meeting at JJ’s. It seemed important to make sure he knew from the very beginning that if she did decide to do this, she was going to do it on her terms (that's what her mom had told her to do).

After looking at the menu for a long moment, Barnes declined to order anything but a cup of coffee, but Leslie determinedly ordered her usual—waffles with extra whipped cream. Her terms.

“I was beginning to wonder if we’d hear from you,” Barnes said to start things off, as he opened a padfolio and tapped a pencil against a page of notes.

“I like to think things through before making decisions.”

Barnes nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good. Caution can be an asset in politics. I’ve been doing some checking, and you have a reputation as a bit of the opposite.”

“I have a reputation?” It was still news to Leslie that people in political circles thought of her at all, much less that she had gained a reputation. She liked it hearing it.

“Oh, I’ve heard a few things … about possums and penguins and the like.” His amused expression made her frown. “Nothing that we can’t overcome, if we package you in the right way.”

Leslie didn’t like the sound of that much. “Package me?”

“Let’s talk platform,” he continued, unperturbed. “What kind of stances are you thinking of taking?”

In spite of her annoyance, Leslie tried to take this in stride and keep control of the meeting. She had her answer ready for this anyway. “My main platform is to do whatever is best for Pawnee. And … more specifically, I’m interested in improving the city’s parks and recreation programs. And ultimately, I’d like to put a park on Lot 48.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he hummed noncommittally. “I think you want to distance yourself from that, actually. We would recommend—”

“Excuse me?” Leslie interrupted. “You want me to distance myself from …?”

“Lot 48. It’s my understanding that you hired a bulldozer to fill in the pit without going through the correct channels, and that in the process a man was injured and the city barely escaped a lawsuit.”

Anger started to swell in Leslie’s gut, but she bit it down again and tried to speak evenly. “I got the pit filled in, and I avoided the lawsuit, and Andy was okay. And we’re still friends.”

That seemed to throw him. “You’re friends with the homeless guy who was living in the pit?”

“Yes, we’re friends. He doesn’t live in the pit anymore.” Leslie was starting to wonder why she was even trying to explain herself to this man, who she obviously wasn’t going to be able to work with. She had plenty of people who believed in her and no use for someone who was set on tearing her down and changing her into something she wasn’t. Why was he even here? “You’re the one who approached me about this.”

Barnes smiled wryly and put his pencil down. “We did. We still think you have a lot of potential. But it’s important to be realistic too, about what will get you elected in the first place. Aside from your history of questionable judgment regarding that issue, you have to consider whether it would be responsible to earmark funding for a new park at a time when Pawnee is still recovering from a grave financial situation.”

Leslie didn’t like the sound of that, but something about what Barnes had said about responsibility reminded her of what Ben had once said, back when she hadn’t been a big fan of Ben’s. It occurred to her that maybe she shouldn’t be too quick to dismiss William Barnes.

Even if she wasn’t ever going to run the campaign he wanted her to, with the platform he was pushing, he was someone who had some knowledge about what worked in politics, and she might as well pick his brain while she had his attention.

“And what would you recommend?”

Barnes launched into a discussion about fiscal responsibility, family values, and talking points, and 45 minutes later, Leslie knew for certain they were never going to be political bedfellows. But she thanked him for his time just the same.

When Barnes had left JJ’s, she opened up her padfolio and made a few more notations. She no longer felt like she could count on the support of Pawnee’s political elite, so she added William Barnes’s committee to the con list. But she could always run a grass-roots campaign, something on her own terms, with the help of Ben and Ann and all the other friends she knew would stand behind her. On the pro side she wrote: Grass-roots campaigns are probably more fun, anyway.

Then she thought of a few points Barnes had made about the city’s financial situation and her prospects for building her park and paused.

\--

Tom’s replacement was a recent college grad named Ellie, whose eagerness and work ethic reminded Leslie a little of herself. Leslie still missed working with Tom, but she had to admit it was nice to have someone who cared about the job and was willing to put in the extra hours.

But Ellie was obviously ambitious and made no secret that she hoped this position was a stepping stone on her way to bigger and better things, and it made Leslie self-conscious about the decision she was trying to make.

She still wasn’t sure what she wanted, or at least the best way to get what she wanted, and her tried-and-true method of making a pro-con list seemed to be letting her down. She didn’t have to announce a decision for another two months, but she was starting to feel the pressure to decide.

As patient as Ben was being—and as amazing as he had been about listening to her thoughtfully without pushing her one way or the other—she didn’t like keeping him in limbo. She still was determined not to let running for office keep them from being together, but that didn’t mean this wasn’t going to affect him. They would need some time to figure out how that was going to work. The parks department deserved that much from her too—as much time as possible to prepare Ellie or whoever else was going to step up when she left.

If she left. As much time as she spent going over her pro-con list, looking it every which way, she still didn’t know.

The left column had only a few actual entries, but enough doodles to more than compensate. Leslie had filled that side of the page with inept drawings of possible campaign signs, a voting booth, the White House, and a stick figure with a briefcase that was supposed to look like Mr. Smith going to Washington. Part of her, the part of her who still felt as optimistic as she did when she was twelve years old, wanted to give that side of the page the weight that it looked like it deserved.

But the other part of her—the grown woman who had spent more time in the past year than she would have liked combing through the city’s financial files while fighting tooth-and-nail to save her department from ruin—was fighting hard to be heard too. This part of her knew the limits the state put on the ability of city councils to raise tax revenue, and recognized that the job of a City Council member would just as likely be about doing what needed to be done than doing what she wanted to do.

And yet she was still like Ellie. She was ambitious, and she worked hard, and she wanted to achieve things, and she didn’t like taking no for an answer. Staying in one place when an exciting opportunity had been presented to her didn’t feel quite right either.

When Ellie had gone for lunch, Leslie found herself staring at the portrait of Hillary Clinton by her desk, wishing it would come alive so she could ask for some advice.

“Leslie, here are those flyers you—are you okay?” Donna’s voice snapped her out of her daze.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m just … wishing I could ask Hillary what she thinks of my life.”

“Unless you’re secretly the president of Kazakhstan, I’m pretty sure Hillary doesn’t know who you are.”

“I know, I’m not delusional,” Leslie said with a sigh, then looked appraisingly at Donna, who always projected such effortless confidence, and wondered if she ever experienced moments of doubt like this. “Donna, you’re a woman.”

“Damned right I am.”

“Don’t you ever, I don’t know, wish you could sit down with Condoleezza Rice and compare notes and ask her for advice on what you should  
be doing?”

Donna frowned down at her, and Leslie knew the question was ridiculous as soon as it left her mouth. “No, never. I do what I want to do, and I don’t care what Condi or anyone else thinks.”

“Right,” Leslie agreed faintly.

“And you should do the same,” Donna said, leaving the stack of flyers on her desk and walking away.

Leslie knew Donna was right, but she still found herself scanning the portraits of amazing ladies that filled her office, wishing she could ask one of them, any of them, what to do.

Then her eyes landed on the picture of her mother, and it dawned on her that she could do exactly that.

\--

The next morning, Leslie walked into her mother’s office unannounced, armed with a double espresso latte.

Marlene accepted it gratefully. “Thank you, dear. I’m so swamped today, I’ve barely had time to caffeinate.”

“Mom, why aren’t you governor?” Leslie blurted out.

Marlene set down the cup and raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Or … lieutenant governor, or speaker of the house, or … mayor of Pawnee.” Seriously, her mom could be anything. Why wasn’t she?

Her mom leaned back, frowning at her, and Leslie hoped she wasn’t offended. “Because I never wanted to be,” she answered evenly. “I’m perfectly happy where I am.”

“Didn’t you ever want to run for office? You could have been elected in a landslide. For anything.”

“Is this about William Barnes? I told you not to let him push you around—”

“I didn’t. We had lunch, and I picked his brain for everything he knew about politics, and that’s it. We parted ways.”

“Good girl,” Marlene said, and Leslie suppressed a smile. She was kind of proud of how she’d handled that meeting.

“Someone did approach me to run for local office once,” Marlene confided after a moment.

“What did you do?” Leslie sat down across from her desk, on the edge of her seat. Her mom had never mentioned this before.

“I declined. Your … father and I were about to divorce. I didn’t want to subject us—or you—to that level of scrutiny. It wasn’t the right time.”

Leslie let that piece of information soak in, that Marlene Griggs-Knope, the Iron ---- ------- --- of Pawnee, had once set aside her ambition for her.

“You didn’t have to do that for me. I would have—”

“And then I realized I didn’t want to be in politics. I wanted to be in government,” Marlene said, cutting her off. “I worked my way up through the administration, and now here I am.” She gestured to the grandeur of her current office, and Leslie’s eyes settled on the prestigious Tellenson Award adorning the wall behind her desk.

It was true, Marlene wasn’t governor, or mayor. But she was the Iron ---- ------- --- of Pawnee. And that was nothing to scoff at.

“Thanks, Mom.” Leslie got up to go, but before she got to the door, remembered something else she wanted to ask her mom about. “Oh, I … I heard about the paraprofessionals who were laid off last year.”

Marlene had already gone back to work, making notes on the report she had been looking at when Leslie walked in. “We were all hit by budget cuts, Leslie,” she said without looking up.

“Right.” Leslie almost turned to go again, since her mom looked so busy, but in a moment of frustration stood her ground. “I just worry about the kids, the ones who need the extra help. Whenever there are cuts, it always seems like they’re the ones who … and sometimes I just get so frustrated. They need teachers to help them learn, and they need safe places to play, and … all I want to do is build one park, but there’s never enough money left, not for me, not for you either apparently. Isn’t there anything we can do about that?”

Marlene put her pencil down and leaned back in her chair, looking tired and annoyed, and Leslie suddenly wished she’d kept her mouth shut, or at least waited for a better time.

But Marlene suddenly smiled. “Well, there is an election coming up, I hear.”

“What are you … do you mean … should I … huh?”

“Leslie, talk to my assistant on your way out. Tell him you need an appointment with me. Not a mother-daughter coffee. A business meeting. Tell him to give us at least an hour. Sometime in the next week.”

Leslie had no idea what her mom had in mind, but she could feel the smile spreading across her face just the same. Her mom wanted a business meeting with her. This was the moment she had dreamed about. “O … okay, Mom,” she stuttered, flustered.

“And have him check my evenings too. Find one when you and Ben can come over for dinner.”

“A-okay, you’ve got it.” God, she’d better stop before her mom took whatever it was she was offering back. “I mean, yes, will do, okay. Bye!”

Out in the hallway, Leslie did a little running-in-place dance, and then composed herself to talk to Leonard, the assistant, who was looking at her like she was combustible. And she kind of felt like she was—a combustible rocket ship.

“Hello, Leonard. I’m here to set an appointment with Marlene. A business meeting.”

\--

As soon as she got out of her meeting with Marlene later that week, Leslie went straight to Ann’s office. She would have told Ben first, except that she wasn’t sure she could manage not to make out with Ben in his office afterward, which meant she should probably wait until later.

“That sounds perfect,” Ann said when she’d finished explaining it. “Your mom’s a genius. Why didn’t you ask for her advice sooner?”

“I would have … I should have. I think I was scared. She’s my mom, but she’s kind of scary.”

“Yeah, scary. I can see that. Speaking of … you know I have a meeting with her next week about immunizations in the schools. Can you help me prep for that, or are you going to be too busy getting the campaign off the ground?”

“Ann, I will never be too busy for you. Talk to my assistant Ellie and have her set up a time … I’m kidding. Just tell me when you want to meet.”

“Oh good. Because I am easily intimidated.”

Leslie waved a hand. “Eh, if Ben can get through it, you can.”

“Yeah. That reminds me … when are you going to talk to him?”

“After work. I can’t tell him here, where we can’t properly celebrate using all available means …”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” Leslie thought for a moment. “Wait, about what? You know we decided not to break up, and now it’s not even going to be an issue. We’re getting better at the sneaking around …”

“You know you can’t sneak around forever,” Ann pointed out gently. “You can’t move in or get married or have babies in secret. Even if no one ever found out, you’d have to figure something out eventually, or break up, right?”

Leslie was startled at the mention of marriage or babies or … wow. That was just too much, too fast. “I don’t even know if I want babies. With anyone, ever. They’re cute, but I work long hours, and I don’t want to take time off from my career. Things are just heating up for me. I’m a rocket ship!”

“Okay. But you want to maybe go to the grocery store together, or to a movie, or to plan a dinner party with friends, right?”

“That … would be nice. Someday. But this is the way it has to be for now. I love my job, and Ben loves his job.”

“Are you sure about that? That Ben loves his job?”

“Of course. It’s the thing we have in common—we both love government, and history, and politics. That’s our thing.”

“I just think you shouldn’t assume. Sometimes people are willing to do more for a relationship than you might think. I was ready to move to Indianapolis, and … I think Ben is me in this.”

“ … what do you mean?”

“He’d quit his job and move to Indianapolis with you if you asked.”

“Huh? I’m not asking …”

“No, I mean … that’s what I was willing to do for Chris. And Ben—actually, Ben already did that. He quit his job and moved to Pawnee, before you guys were even dating.”

“He didn’t … I wasn’t …” But even as Leslie was protesting, she knew it was probably true, that even if she wasn’t the whole reason, she was a big part of the reason, and that if she hadn’t existed, he probably would be long gone by now. But it wasn’t like that was a sacrifice for their relationship—he seemed happier here than he’d told her he’d been on the road. “So wait. You think he would … what are you saying?”

“All I’m saying is … maybe you shouldn’t assume. Look, if the only thing holding Chris back from asking me to move to Indianapolis had been his assumption that I wouldn’t want to go … that would have sucked.”

“Ew … yeah. I see what you mean.”

“I just think you should talk to Ben. You might be able to figure out something that would make you both happy.”

“I will. Eventually. It’d be nice to hold onto the bubble just for a little while longer.”

“Leslie, honey,” Ann said in a voice like she was talking to a small child. “I don’t think you’re in a bubble. I think it’s just a good relationship.”

\--  
Leslie was right—the celebratory sex had been fantastic—but Ben dozed off immediately afterward, and she was too keyed up to fall asleep. She crept back out of bed and went out to the living room and opened up the file box she’d brought home from the office that day, the one containing all her plans and materials related to Lot 48. Then she got out her Jimmy Stewart boxed DVD set and, after a moment of indecision, popped in It’s a Wonderful Life, and got to work. 

Sometime after 1 a.m., Ben came into the room, groggy and blinking at the light from the television, and she wiped at her eyes.

“I woke up and noticed you weren’t in bed.” When she looked up at him, he seemed to notice the tears smeared on her cheeks and was immediately by her side, putting his arm around her and rubbing her back. “Leslie, what’s wrong? What’s going on? I thought you were happy with this decision.”

“I am, I am … very happy.” She smiled sheepishly at him. “This part of the movie always just gets me.”

Ben stared at the television for a few seconds. It was the end, where George Bailey comes home to find all of his friends gathered, and finds out they had come through for him when he needed it most, just as he always done for them.

“Ah … this,” Ben said, and watched the rest of the movie with her.

When the credits were rolling, Leslie said quietly, “I always loved Mr. Smith when I was a kid. But the older I get, the more I’m drawn to this one.”

“I know what you mean,” Ben said quietly after a few moments. “Mr. Smith gets all the attention, but … I’ve always had a soft spot for George Bailey.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, totally. He works hard, and he’s there for the people who need him, and he makes a difference one small feat at a time. And there’s nothing flashy about it. But it’s the kind of quiet dedication that I find really inspiring.”

She smiled at him shyly, feeling like he was probably talking in metaphors again. Ben had a flair for doing that. “You do?”

“I do. I really, really do.”

She hugged him close and buried her face in his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“For …?”

“For being you.” She turned her face up to look at him, and he gazed down at her intently for a moment before getting an amused look in his eyes.

“What is—are you holding an envelope of cash? I think the Baileys were looking for that …”

“Oh.” Leslie had forgotten she’d pulled it out of the box earlier. “It’s not … it’s from Tom. For the Lot 48 park. He donated to the fund a couple years ago, except there is no fund, so I’ve just been holding onto it.”

Ben looked impressed. “Wow. That was really nice of Tom.”

“It was. And I think it’s finally going to happen this time. I have a good feeling about it.”

“Me too. Marlene knows what she’s doing. And so do you.”

“You know she invited us over to dinner. On Tuesday.”

“Okay,” Ben said without hesitation.

For a moment Leslie couldn’t believe this was her life—this version where she had a plan to get her park built, and she had a boyfriend who didn’t blink at the idea of dinner with her mom, even after everything that had happened.

“We’re really not in the bubble any more, are we,” she said with a little laugh.

Ben smiled kind of wistfully and laughed softly. “Leslie … I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I was never in the bubble.”

“What do you mean? We were in the bubble together. It was a really nice place to be.”

“No, yeah, it was … it’s been wonderful. But it’s always been real to me. I was always thinking about what happened next, and how we were going to make this work.”

Leslie had been too, if she was being honest with herself. And she already knew that Ben was one of those infuriating people who squeezed the middle of the toothpaste tube instead of pushing it up from the bottom.

“How are we going to make this work?” She meant it as more of a rhetorical question, due to the impossibility of their situation and the fact that she didn’t really expect him to have an answer.

“I know.” Ben laughed kind of uncomfortably. “Um … do you really want to talk about that?”

“I don’t know,” Leslie began tentatively. “I don’t want to think about it. But I know we can’t do this indefinitely, hiding our relationship. It’s not a good long-term solution. We can’t even go grocery shopping together, much less”—she paused to choose her next words carefully—“take any of the steps that couples eventually take together.”

“I know,” Ben said, his face visibly lighting up at the fact that she was thinking about it. “Look, um … I wasn’t going to bring this up yet. I wanted to give us some more time. But …”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking … you’re right. We can’t both keep working in City Hall and be dating at the same time. So I was planning … after a reasonable length of time, when this wouldn’t sound so insane, I was going to …”

“Ben, what is it?

He scrunched up his face self-consciously. “Quit my job.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, it sounds insane, right now, when we haven’t been together all that long. And that’s why I wasn’t going to mention it yet. But … well, it’s been my plan all along.”

“Since we started dating?”

“Since … before we started dating. Otherwise, dating at all seemed a little … insane.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“But you like your job!”

“I do … but honestly I took it because it was the job that was offered to me at a time when I was looking for a way to stay. I’m good at it, it’s fine, it’s better than being an auditor, but …the spreadsheets don’t keep me warm at night. And they don’t laugh at my jokes. Or … inspire me, like you do.”

Leslie felt like her heart had stopped beating, like she couldn’t quite breathe. “But what would you do?”

“I don’t know exactly, but it wouldn’t be too urgent. A lot of my living expenses were taken care of when I was traveling for the state, so I’ve got some money saved up. I’d be okay for a while. The rent at April and Andy’s place is kind of ridiculously low, anyway.”

“What do you want to do?”

Ben shrugged and smiled. “There are a lot of things I could do. I could work for the county, or the school district, or one of the neighboring towns. I could start a consulting business. I could get my teaching certificate and teach high school history and government. There are these programs that let professionals retrain as teachers in about a year.”

She latched onto that last one, which sounded more like a fully-formed thought than the others.

“Is that something you’d want to do? I mean, teach?”

“Um … well, it’s crossed my mind. I had a really good teacher in high school who was the reason I wanted to go into politics in the first place. And I guess that didn’t turn out so well. But … I still remember him fondly. And I couldn’t ever run for office in my current job. All the budget presentations I have to give at City Council meetings, that’d be pretty awkward if I was running against one of them.”

“Do you still want to do that?”

“I … haven’t ruled it out. I’m not sure. But teaching is something that, I guess you could say, I’m seriously considering it.”

Leslie let that sink in for a moment and was surprised at how well it seemed to fit. He wasn’t just good with numbers; he was passionate about government, and about history. He had real experience to share. And she wasn’t sure how she knew this, but she had an idea that he’d be good with kids.

“I think you’d be an amazing teacher.”

“I’d have to work on my public-speaking skills. They’d eat me alive.”

“All your students would have crushes on you.”

“Oh, they would not.”

“Yeah. They would.” It occurred to her he might not know how good looking he was, and that she should tell him more often. There were a lot of things she should tell him more often. He shouldn’t look surprised every time she mentioned liking him or wanting to be with him, for one thing. He should just know.

“Well, that’s nice of you. I mean, to think I’d be good at it at all. Anyway, it’s just one thought I had. But yeah, there are options.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? I mean, really? You’re on board with this?”

“I want you to do whatever makes you happy.”

\--

An eventful month later, as Leslie sat by herself gazing out over the lot that used to be a pit, she felt like she could almost see the outlines of her park through the darkness.

“I can’t believe this bench is still here.”

She looked up to see the tall figure of Mark Brandanawicz approaching through the darkness.

“Some things never change,” Leslie agreed.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, smiling down at her and then taking a seat to her left. “I’m going to get rust on my khakis, aren’t I.”

“Don’t knock this bench. It’s been through a lot.”

“Right. The bench has,” he said. “So you’re really going to do this.”

“Yep. I still can’t believe it’s happening. But it is.”

“I believe it.”

“Yeah?”

“I think … anyone who knows you could believe it.”

Leslie smiled to herself. “Did you bring the plans?”

“Of course I did. Have I ever let you down? … Okay, don’t answer that. But yes. Here you go.”

Leslie unrolled the sheet of paper and squinted at it in the dim light of a streetlamp.

“I can’t really see anything in the dark,” she finally admitted.

Marked laughed at this. “I don’t know why you wanted to meet here after dark in the first place.”

“It’s our thing, isn’t it? We should meet here on this bench once a year for the rest of our lives.”

“… you realize my ex lives across the street, don’t you?”

“Oh. I forgot about that … Or, I didn’t forget. That was thoughtless of me. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Yes, we should meet here once a year for the rest of our lives.”

He didn’t sound super-enthused about it, but Leslie let it slide.

“I’m sure these are perfect. Thanks for making a new one.”

“I have to admit … I couldn’t believe Leslie Knope was asking me to draw something less ambitious.”

“Nobody’s going to let you do anything unless you can prove you’re going to do it responsibly,” she paraphrased. “Someone told me that.”

“Wise words. Here, I worked up some preliminary numbers for you too. Now you know those are just estimates based on Morton Construction’s rates. If you do this, you’re going to have to go through an official bidding process.”

“Yeah, I know. Ben’s walking me through the whole thing. I’m learning.”

“Ben …?”

“Ben Wyatt. He’s my …” Leslie realized that there wasn’t any need to keep it a secret anymore. Ben’s last day at City Hall had been Friday. “…boyfriend.” It felt good to say.

“Where do I know that name?” Mark gazed out across the lot for a moment as he tried to place it. “Wait … is that the state auditor who negotiated my buyout?”

“Probably. I don’t know who negotiated your buyout, but he and Chris Traeger were the state auditors.”

“That’s … so he’s working for the city now?”

“Nope. He’s currently unemployed.”

“Sounds like a great catch,” Mark teased lightly.

“He’s going to ISU-Snerling in the fall. An accelerated program to get his teaching certificate so he can teach history and government. And until then, he’s a full-time volunteer on my campaign.”

At that, Mark laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. “Teaching is a completely noble profession. He’s going to be shaping the minds of the future leaders of America.”

Mark laughed harder. “It’s not that … it’s just … you’ve finally found someone who would be as into historical role play as you.”

Leslie’s jaw dropped. “How did you … did Ron say something?” Mark gave her a weird look, and slowly it dawned on her. “Oh. I can’t believe I totally forgot … wait, I thought you didn’t remember that night.”

“I remember a little about that night. Sorry. I should have never brought it up. I just meant … it sounds like you’re happy. I’m happy for you.”

And she realized she was. She really, really was. “Thank you.”

“I should get back.” Mark got up and started backing away from the bench toward his car. “Same time next year?”

“You bet.”

“Good luck,” he called back to her through the darkness.

\--

By early August, Entertainment 720 was still in business, which meant that everyone in the office had lost money to April. Nobody could figure out why the most dour seeming parks department employee had been the only one to bet on Tom’s business succeeding past summer, but she had, and it was paying off.

But Leslie was glad, mostly because Tom seemed happier—not that he hadn’t been happy before, but it was like success had mellowed him out and he didn’t seem to be trying so frantically to impress everyone all the time any more. But the extra benefit was that Tom was willing to donate his services to a good cause if it meant extra exposure for his fledgling company.

For her big announcement and press conference, Entertainment 720 had set up a podium on a small, tastefully decorated stage at Lot 48, comfortable-looking folding chairs were set up in nice neat rows, and understated but patriotic music was playing over the loudspeakers. The media, along with everyone who seemed to be anyone in Pawnee, seemed to be there. It was perfect.

When the time came, Leslie approached the podium, excitement swelling in her chest.

“Hello, and thank you for coming today,” Leslie said, pausing to take a deep breath and smile. This was it, her big moment. “I am Leslie Knope, deputy director of the Pawnee Department of Parks and Recreation, and I have an announcement to make. This is something I’ve been hoping to do for a long time, and I hope you will join with me and be as happy about it as I am.

“Three years ago, I set out to turn a pit into a park. We’ve made progress—as you see, it’s no longer a public hazard. But I think we can do better for the children of Pawnee. In recent years, budget cuts have meant cutting the services that most affect the youngest citizens of our community. I propose that we go back to making our youth a priority.

“And that is why I’m here to announce this campaign. The parks department has joined together with the school district to sponsor a referendum that will be on the ballot in November. For just a small increase in your property taxes—a few dollars per month—we can accomplish so much. We can lower class sizes, offer more help for the students who need it most, and put a park on this lot at last.”

With a flourish, she unveiled an enlarged copy of Mark’s new, more modest blueprint, talking about its features, costs, and the benefits it would have for the community. Then she turned over the stage to Marlene, who detailed how hiring several new teachers and reinstating paraprofessional positions would improve the district’s test scores and graduation rates over time. Ben stood by to answer questions about the financials.

As Leslie stood off to the side and listened to her mom talk, a woman approached her. Leslie was surprised to recognize her as Sarah Williams, the brunette who had accompanied William Barnes the night of the Li’l Sebastian funeral.

“This is a brilliant political move,” Sarah said quietly.

“I didn’t mean it as a political move,” Leslie said, smiling serenely.

“That’s part of what makes it so brilliant. All of the exposure and experience of a citywide campaign, but none of the personal pitfalls.”

“Pitfalls?” Leslie asked, her curiosity piqued.

“As a woman, there are always pitfalls.” That sounded a little cynical to Leslie, but she noticed the way Sarah’s eyes slid over toward Ben, who was now walking the audience through property tax impacts. “But … just between you and me, I noticed the way you looked at him the night we talked.”

“Oh,” was all Leslie could think of to say, startled.

“I didn’t want to tell you not to try, but I was nervous for you. If there was even a hint of something there, even if it was something that hadn’t happened yet, or that wasn’t happening any more, the fact that he approved Harvest Fest and went on to be your boss … it might not have been pretty.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Leslie, that even if she had broken up with Ben to make a run for office, the damage might already have been done.

“You know, by the next election cycle, you’d be in the clear. It would all be forgotten,” Sarah was saying. “If you decide you wanted to run in two years, I hope you let me know. I’d be happy to help you.”

Leslie smiled at the other woman, wondering if she’d found a new friend. “Thank you. I … I haven’t ruled anything out.”

When the press conference was over, Marlene found Leslie and gave her a stiff professional handshake, which felt somehow better than a hug. “Thank you for your help with this, Leslie. It’s something that’s been on my mind for a while, but I never would have had the time to coordinate it myself. You have more of a talent for rallying the troops than I’ve ever had, anyway.”

Leslie beamed back at her, her heart swelling with pride. “Thank you, Mom. That means so much to me. And thank you for believing in this.”

“Don’t thank me yet. This is a long way from over.”

“I know,” Leslie agreed. “But at least we’re trying.”

Then she went to find Ben, who also extended his arm for a professional handshake. On impulse, Leslie reached right past the proffered hand and grabbed hold of his tie, gently pulling him down toward her. Ben tensed as she pressed her lips against his, and he still looked startled when she let him go.

“What … what was that for?” His eyes flicked around to the lingering media circus, none of whom seemed to be paying them any attention.

“That was because I love you. And I don’t care who knows.”

“Oh … well, in that case, come back here.” He leaned in for a more lingering kiss, and that one seemed to catch some attention. They broke away to the sound of various whoops and whistles and glanced around to see April, Andy, Tom, Donna, Jerry, and Jean-Ralphio getting ready to settle a bet.

“Who had August?” Tom asked.

“I did.” It was April. Of course it was April.

“I had August of 2012. Does that get me anything?” Jean-Ralphio said.

“I still say they’ve been together since Harvest Fest,” Jerry groaned.

Leslie leaned in to ask Ben, “Should we set the record straight?”

Ben shook his head. “Knowing April, she’s probably known all along and placed her bet based on when she thought we’d go public. Seems fair. And also … I love you too.”

Leslie smiled, leaning her forehead against his chest. “I know.”

\--

It was a crisp fall Saturday in October of 2012. The construction crews had finished installing the new playground equipment the previous week, and a crew of volunteers had spent the day raking wood chips, smoothing the softball diamond, and working on some landscaping touches.

As the last of the volunteers left for the evening and the sun started to set on Pawnee’s newest park, Leslie sat down on one of the brand new swings and kicked her legs until she felt like she was flying. When she noticed Ben take a seat on the swing beside her, she slowed down enough to talk to him.

“You should try it.”

“I’d feel silly,” he demurred.

“I’m the only one here, and I don’t care.”

“I think I’d rather watch you.” He stared at her openly, adoringly, and it only added to her happiness to be sharing this with him.

After a few more kicks, she slowed down to a stop and just took in the sight.

“Look at what we made. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ben grinned, seeming as happy and proud as she felt. “I know. It’s great.”

“Oh, I meant to ask you, was that a Pikitis I saw today? When I saw him, I thought this whole project was doomed.”

“Cory Pikitis, yeah. He’s not that bad. I … gave him a choice between detention and community service. He chose this.”

Leslie shook her head. “Well, crap on a spatula. I was so relieved when Greg graduated last May, it didn’t even occur to me there were more of them in the system.”

“Don’t worry,” Ben said, rolling his eyes. “I think I can handle Cory Pikitis.”

She looked at him in wonder. It’s not that she ever doubted Ben would be good at this, but he’d really seemed to have a rapport with the kids today. And he’d gotten so many of them to come. It hadn’t occurred to her when he had taken the job at Pawnee High that he’d be supplying her with an army of able-bodied teenaged volunteers.

“Were those all detention kids? They seemed like good kids. Most of them.”

Ben laughed softly. “Don’t worry. Some of them are future leaders of America, I’m sure. And a few of them probably volunteered just because they have crushes on me.”

“Are you serious?”

“According to you, I am.”

Leslie laughed, then turned more serious. “Hey. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Ben said, kicking the wood chips underneath his swing instead of looking at her. He never was going to get better at taking the praise, Leslie had realized long ago. Then he raised his eyes back up to her with that bashful grin she’d always loved. “You know, I was dreading the day one of my students brought up the impeachment thing, but it hasn’t been that bad. It’s weird, but it’s like it gives me some kind of street cred, like they see me as a former rebel or something.”

“Yep. That’s how I’ve always seen you. Rebel. Rabble-rouser. Troublemaker.”

Ben laughed. “Speaking of trouble ... it was good to see Ron and Chris haven’t killed each other yet.”

“Not yet. I think they’re still working out the kinks of that relationship, but they’ll get there.”

“That sounds about right. Tell Ron it helps if you at least pretend to take a supplement once in a while.”

“I’ll pass that on.”

“And tell him to watch out for that Parks Director Knope. She’s, uh … hard to say no to.”

“Wow. It still feels weird to hear that. Parks Director Knope. You should call me that all the time.”

“How about ... I love you, Parks Director Knope."

"That's it. That's what I'm talking about."

He grinned at her, and she grinned back at him, feeling like everything in her life was perfect, and she thought—hoped—he felt the same way. But there had been something she’d been wondering about since this afternoon, which had been the first time she’d seen him interact with his students.

“Hey, um … do you think you want kids of your own?”

Ben looked at her wide-eyed. “Are you offering?”

“I’m not … I’m just … If it was important to you, I’d consider it. Maybe.” She definitely wasn’t sold on the idea, but she’d been surprised to realize that she might consider it if it turned out to be important to him, and anyway she trusted him. They’d find a way to make it work.

“Well, I’m not … opposed to the idea. But I’d be happy either way, I think. Actually … this is going to sound strange.”

“What is it?”

“I … kind of think of Pawnee as our kid.”

“Pawnee is our kid,” she echoed happily. “I love it! That’s perfect.” Then something dawned on her. “On my god, you’re Gayle Gergich.”

Ben furrowed his brow cutely. “Who is … is that Jerry’s wife? I’m confused.”

“You know, the parents who become teachers so that they can spend time off with their kids.”

“Ahhh. I get it. Well, Marcia Langman would have a field day with us. Living in sin, spawning bastard parks projects.”

Leslie laughed, then suddenly had an idea—maybe her best idea yet.

“We should do something about that.”

“Oh, I don’t really care what Marcia thinks about anything, to be honest,” Ben said, completely missing the point.

“No, silly, for us. You, me, and Pawnee. We should make it official.”

“You mean … wait.” Ben stared at her as he considered what she could possibly mean by that. “Are you seriously proposing to me?” Then he started laughing and shaking his head, a response that took Leslie by surprise since they’d been living together for most of the past year.

“Yes! Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, I’m serious …” But even as she said it, she was laughing too, having no idea why.

“You’re right, it’s not funny. It’s just … I’ve wanted to marry you since … well let’s just say it’s been a long time. And I can’t believe you get to take credit for this, like it’s your idea.”

“If it’s a good idea, does it matter whose it was?”

“Not at all. Yes. Let’s get married. I’m in. I am so in.”

“Me too.”

Somehow during this conversation, they’d managed to scoot their swings close enough together and twist them so that they could lean in to kiss, which seemed really extremely important right now, but just as Leslie tried to deepen it, which also seemed really important at a time like this, she lost her balance and fell into him. He half caught her, but she slid down his lap and landed in the wood chips anyway.

“Oh crap. This wasn’t the most romantic marriage proposal ever, was it,” she said laughing.

“It was … well, it could have been worse,” Ben said with mock-seriousness, as he helped her up. “But if I get to be married to you, then I’m happy.”

Leslie pulled him in for a real kiss, pressing her body against his in the gathering darkness.

“Race you home?” she said when she finally released him.

“I feel like I already am home,” he said, gazing down at her with undeniable love in his eyes. “And also, we drove.”

“Oh yeah. Just, let’s go home, okay? Before I start groping you in public.”

“Good idea.”

And they took off together, like a pair of rocketships taking off into the night.


End file.
